<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Fuck With The Eagles, But Fuck Me First by Immortalgothgirl</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498551">Fuck With The Eagles, But Fuck Me First</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immortalgothgirl/pseuds/Immortalgothgirl'>Immortalgothgirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy &amp; O'Keefe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bondage, Chansaw, Dom/sub, F/F, I don't usually write smut, Porn With Plot, Requested by a friend, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, gagged, tied up</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:21:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,248</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498551</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immortalgothgirl/pseuds/Immortalgothgirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chandler and Veronica realise this has been festering for quite some time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Heather Chandler/Veronica Sawyer, Heather McNamara/Heather Duke (Implied)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fuck With The Eagles, But Fuck Me First</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay so I don't usually write smut, and to be honest it's not really my cup of tea and it probably shows in the work but a friend requested it! I thought it would be good to step outside of my comfort zone and flex those writing muscles!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Here we go again. Veronica thought glumly, stood outside yet another Remington party gone to shit. Though this time, it wasn't because of her drunken antics. "Heather, it's fucking freezing, I want to go home." </p><p>Chandler responded with a torrent of vomit blasting out of her throat at, it seemed to Veronica, an alarming rate, her worry soon evaporated however, when Chandler wiped the puke from the corner of her mouth, trying and failing to focus her eyes, hazy with alcohol. "Ronnie, don't be a fucking pillowcase, get me some water.  And Corn Nuts!"</p><p>"Are you sure you'll be okay?"</p><p>"Veronica." Heather growled through gritted teeth, "Get me what I ask for."</p><p>"What's the magic word?" Asked Veronica, eyebrow quirked, feigning affront.</p><p>"Now!" She was now slumped against the wall, her left arm crushed between brick and the bones of her left rib.</p><p>Veronica walked at a brisk pace to the nearest Snappy Snack Shack, all the while willing herself to ignore the stirring in her pelvis when Heather addressed her so gruffly, pleading with herself not to make the fact that her pussy was salivating with arousal a bigger deal than it needed to be. "Jesus Sawyer, get your shit together." She sighed as she left the store. An extra bag of Corn Nuts on hand for Heather's hangover tomorrow.</p><p>Later that night, her diary pages began to clog with entries about Heather Chandler. For the most part, it was mainly Veronica pondering what the fuck her damage was, having the brass neck to tell her to reign it in and not get shit faced when she ended up christening the carpets with sick. The latter half it was as if her gold tipped fountain pen had a mind of its own, scrawling on the paper intimate details of Heather's beauty, her most purest of assets. The pen recorded fondly a pair of deep cerulean pools that seared into the soul and lips redder than the ripest cherry. Unbidden, Veronica launched her pen across the room and all but crushed her monocle, the clenching of her fist a welcome distraction from the clenching between her legs.</p><hr/><p>Vanity had never looked so good. That was what she'd tell herself whenever she caught a glimpse of Heather's ass cheeks winking out from under her skirt when she had a little too much of a spring in her step. The image of a red lace thong tattooed on her brain.  "So Heather, how's the hangover?" Duke asked, a little too smug for Veronica's liking. Mac stood to Chandlers right, matching them in stride although her eyes were fixed on the floor, vacant but intense all at once.</p><p>"What do think? I've been puking more than you today." Duke, stunned into silence, could do nothing but mimic Mac. Burning holes into the floor with a hardened stare and trembling lips, whether out of hurt or anger, or perhaps a unity of both, Veronica could not say.</p><p>"Jesus Heather." Mac said hotly as Duke sprinted to the bathroom, trying and failing to muffle her sobs, "Harsh much?" </p><p>"Someone needs to fucking force feed her the memo. Bulimia is so eighty-seven." She squared right up to Mac in the middle of the hallway, indifferent to the swarm of students weaving around them to avoid getting caught up in the confrontation. Of course Kurt and Ram stopped and stared, sniggering to each other and swatting their shoulders in brutish agreement. "Maybe take her to a candy store on your next date." She smirked ruefully and sauntered off. Leaving Veronica, mouth flapping and grasping for words with a mortified Mac. As if in silent acknowledgement, the two of them exchanged a look. They both went in search of Heather. Mac for Duke, Ronnie for Chandler.</p><p>Ronnie eventually caught up to Heather. Slouched in her car, her hair disheveled, the red scrunchie clinging by a thread. "Heather, what was all that about?"</p><p>Chandler pursed her lips, for the first time in her life Veronica saw something other than searing disdain behind her eyes. Heather was acting even nastier than usual these days. A snide comment here, a spiteful show of her superiority there. Almost as if a malice festering inside her was clawing to come out, an undiluted mass of something beyond the realm of Ronnie's comprehension. She thought she had given up trying to solve the enigma that was Heather Chandler many years ago.</p><p>  It seemed her thumping heart dispelled that theory.</p><p>"I'm sick of Duke." She spat, her knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel, "I'm sick of Mac, sick of Kurt, Ram, all of them."</p><p>"You really upset Heather, Heather." </p><p>"I know." She relaxed her grip somewhat, placing her left hand on top of Ronnie's, "You know you're the only one who can talk me down." A genuine smile pried her mouth open, a row of pearl white teeth peeping through plump red lips, Veronica realised she was dying to kiss them.</p><p>"That's because I have exclusive knowledge of the intricacies of the mythic bitch that is Heather Chandler." She laughed, now her smile could rival Heather's.  Chandler squeezed her hand tighter, and before Veronica could squeeze back she felt Heather's lips on hers. Warm, plump, hungry. So distinctly Heather, taking what she wants yet giving Veronica the chance to pull away if she so desired. Not that she'd ever, ever want to. </p><p>"My place?" Heather husks. </p><p>"How very." Veronica replied as they sped out of the parking lot.</p><hr/><p>Veronica shouldn't be nervous. She'd been in Heather's room a million times before, passed out on her bed, adorned with plushy pillows and fine silk sheets many a time after a study session dragged on too long and Mac and Duke had gone off to do God only know's what. </p><p>This time it's different for both of them, she knows. She knows by the way Heather all but bashes the door down, by the salacious glint in her eyes as they roam Veronica's body.</p><p>
  <em>'Has she wanted this as long as I have?' </em>
</p><p>Heather pulls something from her closet  and retreats to her en suite bathroom. Leaving Veronica to peruse the scene, she's drawn to Heather's selection of scrunchies perched on her nightstand. All red of course, arranged by the intensity of the shade. Light to dark. Heather Chandler was a creature of habit, she thrived off meticulousness and structure and the retention of the <em>natural order</em> of a world in which she was at the helm.</p><p>Ronnie truly pitied the poor soul who threatened Heather's utopia.</p><p>"Veronica." The voice commands her very bones, she turned, and it was all she could do not to finish there and then. Silk red robes cascaded down her back, grazing the back of her milky thighs, she had an arm propped up against the door frame, exposing a fraction of cleavage. With an almost feline sway in her hips she strutted towards the bed and lay down, "Come here."</p><p>She obeyed. From that moment on, she knew she always would. </p><p>Ronnie had to take a moment to admire the scene, Heather Chandler, Queen of Westerburg, the very epitome of regality, sprawled on the bed in lingerie, legs spread and growing impatient. </p><p>Shit, Ronnie thinks, she'd better do something, "Um...Heather...you should know I've never done this before...I...I don't know what you want..."</p><p>If Ronnie wasn't so turned on, and if she had witnessed this in an entirely different scenario, she would've said she didn't like the wan smile on Heather's lips, but right now all it made her want to do is ravish her blindly.</p><p>She sat up and straddled Ronnie, cupped her chin, leaned in close, she could still smell the cherry cola slushie on her breath, "Oh, Ronnie.....<em>I</em> know what I want, and I know what <em>you</em> need." Slowly, she brought them down on the bed, her hand gripping the back of Veronica's neck as she looked into her eyes. "You need to be given....direction." </p><p>"Heather...tell me, I'll do anything...just tell me what you need."</p><p>She did, "I need you to tell me that you're mine, and only mine."</p><p>Almost immediately she replied, "Of course I am." To be quite honest, she was do delirious, so drunk with lust she could barely comprehend what she was saying. All she knew was that she wanted this, wanted Heather, and wanted to be Heather's.</p><p>"Say it." she growled, "I want to hear you say it, Ronnie." "I'm yours and only yours, Heather Chandler. I always have been." That was all she needed. Heather flipped Ronnie on her back with ease, their lips met as Heather initiated a deep, passionate kiss. How she was able to work her over and tie her hands to the bed with the strap of her robe Ronnie was never know, but now she was subdued, completely at Heather's mercy. She began to kiss her way down Ronnie's lean torso, nipping and sucking in all the right places, as though she'd been long acquainted with Veronica's anatomy, she knew just the right place to elicit a moan, a stifled cry, a rush of euphoria, a buck of the hips. Ronnie was quite sure if she were to die right now she would be perfectly fine with this moment being her last earthly memory.</p><p>But Heather Chandler was never so accommodating. She stopped suddenly and sat up, leaving her lover a heaving mess as she dipped two slim fingers under the hem of her nightwear and began to thrust at a modest speed. </p><p>Her breath barely caught, Ronnie craned her head, "You mythic bitch, Heather Chandler." She let out a breathy laugh and tilted her head back, not noticing heather had stopped pleasuring herself. She crawled back up the bed until she was looming over Ronnie, a dark, menacing glower dominating her ethereal features.</p><p>"Ronnie." She said in a voice thick with false confusion, "Good girls don't speak to their mistress like that." Before Veronica could reply Heather had pulled the scarlet scrunchie from her hair, that now toppled over her shoulders, and stuffed it in Ronnie's mouth. </p><p>"I can't abide insolence, Ronnie, you know that." She winked, before kneeling down and brusquely spreading Ronnie's legs apart, "No underwear, huh?" Heather asked with a cocked eyebrow, "Naughty little brat, aren't you?" </p><p>Ronnie almost keened when Heather's tongue started sliding along her clit, she bucked relentlessly against Heather's mouth, but Heather wasn't giving anymore than she was willing to. She was deliberately treading carefully, no doubt in retaliation to Ronnie's early disobedience. "Are you going to behave now?" Heather's eyes could just be seen over her mound, she made a move to wipe her mouth, slick with Ronnie's essence.  The girl could only nod meekly, she muffled something, made indiscernible by the the scrunchie that gagged her.</p><p>Heather, in her eternal benevolence, removed it. "What was that?"</p><p>"I said yes, mistress." Veronica whined, "I'll behave, I'll let you do whatever you want to me. I just need you inside me..." Without a word, she knelt back down and clamped her lips back onto Ronnie's core, deftly slipping two fingers in, and out and in again, each thrust sending a paralyzing wave of heat through her subject. </p><p>"Fuck....Mistress....please....oh God..." It came out in breathless huffs, with each thrust Heather stroked her thumb over Ronnie's swollen bud, lips twitching in delight as the girl beneath her jolted erratically.</p><p>"Shit....Oh fuck Heather, Heather I think I'm gunna-mmphh!"</p><p>"Hold it, baby." Continuing to work on Ronnie, she slipped her free hand down her own slit again, pressing deeper and deeper until she felt both of their walls constricting around her fingers. "Come with me, now." </p><p>"HE-AHHH!!" They came together, dribbling thick hot cum on heather's sheets, some of it splayed across Ronnie's exposed thighs, merging with sweat. "Fuck me gently with a Chainsaw...Heather...that was amazing." </p><p>Pressing her cum covered fingers into Ronnie's mouth, she thought about her answer... "I know. Don't say I never give you anything." She said as she untied Ronnie.  They spent a few minutes of mutually appreciative silence before Ronnie spoke up.</p><p>"What we just did, it meant something to you, right? Because it did to me....and whatever this is...whatever we are, I don't want it to end before it's really even started." </p><p>Heather took a deep breath and thought pensively, "Why does it have to be anything, Ronnie? Why can't it just be what it is? I'm not saying it didn't mean anything, of course it did..but why rush to put a label on things?" </p><p>"I don't regret what we did. Not for a second." She started again when Ronnie remained silent..."All I'm saying is that we have all the time in the world to figure out what we are.....do you want to stay tonight?"</p><p>Ronnie looked at Heather, a disheveled, sex tousled goddess was asking her to stay the night, how could Ronnie refuse the woman she loved? "Heather...I-"</p><p>"Ronnie, please don't say it, not yet. Not until I'm sure I can really say it back."  She kissed Heather's cheek, she understood, Heather Chandler had to be at least two steps ahead of everyone. Love was uncharted territory for her. So Veronica once again went demurely to Heather's bed, only this time she was able to clasp her hand with Heather's as she held her from behind as they drifted off to sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>